Each time thoughts of spending time alone with him entered her mind, she banished them. Will you never learn, Elinor Sanders? He's not for the likes of you, so stop dreaming!
The next morning as they were finishing breakfast, Nellie said, "Mr. Bradley, today I would like to go up the valley to the west again. There was a marshy area up there I would like to explore. And I would also like to look for my mystery plant."
"Those red and blue ones?"
"Yes. I'd like to see if we can find more. That will be an easy trip to make in one day."
"Let me get Tom set for the day and I'll be ready to go." He stood up and tossed the dregs of his coffee into the fire. "Can you take care of things here?"
"Certainly." While she had not been washing the few dishes they used at each meal, she certainly was not averse to doing it, if it would get them into the field sooner. Besides, each time she saw Mr. Bradley cooking or washing dishes, she felt guilty. He seemed somehow too manly for such domestic chores. Still, as he had reminded her once, that was what they were paying him to do.
* * * * *
She found her plants, and several more new ones besides. Although the day was long and Mr. Bradley decidedly untalkative, she enjoyed herself. Spring had definitely come, with balmy, pine-scented air and new growth of grasses and herbs softening the sharp edges of the mountains' bones. The nights only rarely now left a skim of ice on the water bucket, and soon she would be able to bathe in the lake without turning blue. On the way back, she noticed that he no longer seemed as watchful as he had the day she and Uncle had gone to the high ridge. She asked him about it.
"Something was following us that day," he said, slowing so he could walk beside her. The trail was wider here, as if the deer or elk that had made it traveled shoulder to shoulder rather than in single file.
"You saw it?"
"No. There's a feeling you get, if you're a hunter." He sniffed the air, shook his head. "Or hunted."
"Hunted? How--"
"In the War." His tone told her to leave the subject alone. Then, almost as if regretting his snappish tone, he said, "I hunted almost as soon as I could walk. We pretty much lived off of what Pop and I shot."
Somehow she couldn't imagine Malachi Breedlove as a child. "Did you grow up in Virginia?" He'd said his people had died at Manasses--wasn't that close to Washington? There was a hint of South in his speech, yet overlaid with a different drawl that spoke of years in the west.
"We had a farm outside of Manasses. Pop wasn't much of a farmer. He would have been better off teaching school or something where he could use his head. Most years he got a decent crop of tobacco, but he was a great one for reading--spent most of his money on books. Gram raised vegetables and kept bees, so between her and me, we kept food on the table."
Suddenly he caught her arm and pulled her to a stop. "Shhh!"
Nellie looked where he was pointing. Not a hundred yards away, a moose calf was sleeping in a dark curl on green grass. Nearby its mother browsed at new willow growth. Even as Nellie thrilled at the sight, she remembered what he had told her about the danger. When he drew her off the trail, she willingly followed. Sheba, as if she also understood, followed quietly.
They slipped into the woods, climbing up the steep slope. When she thought they were far enough that the moose would not be disturbed, she said, "Would she really attack? Even if we didn't bother her or her calf?"
"There's no accounting for moose," he said, keeping his voice low. "I've seen one attack a wagon, and Willard told me that he once saw a bull moose take on a grizzly bear."
"Oh, my!" She tried to imagine two such enormous animals locked in combat. "Who won?"
He guided her around a big boulder and onto a new game trail that ran along the slope. "Willard said it was pretty much a draw. They both did some damage, but neither one looked like they were hurt bad."
Eventually they came upon the trail to the ridge and followed it down and back to camp.
That night after supper she once again broached a topic dear to her heart. "Mr. Bradley, I still hope to explore farther afield than we can go in one day. Is there any reason why we can't take all the mules with us? Surely there is ample graze in higher meadows by now."
He looked at her for a long moment. Then he smiled. "Do you know, I never thought of that."
"You mean you'll consider it?"
"I think it's a very good idea. We're running out of places to move the corral, and bringing grass to the stock just doesn't make sense. After a few days with no grazing, the flat should green up again."
Nellie glowed under his praise.
"Unless you want milk to drink, I think we'll leave the cow. Tom can keep an eye on it and a couple of the horses."
Was there laughter in his voice? Nellie decided there was. "I believe I can live without it for a few days."
The next day Nellie made certain she had finished all the chores Uncle had set her. She packed and repacked her saddlebags, wanting to make sure she had enough warm clothing. With any luck, they would climb nearly two thousand feet higher than they were now, if they reached what appeared to be a bench lying just below the highest peaks. Although she didn't know the exact elevation here in their base camp, she had estimated it to be somewhere around six thousand feet above sea level. Using skills she had learned in a geography course she'd sat in on last year, she had calculated the height of the bench and the peak. The latter appeared to be somewhere around ten thousand feet high--a figure she found awe-inspiring, particularly since other peaks around it seemed to be just as high. She had always thought the Alps impressive, had dreamed of visiting them, yet here she was in an equally spectacular area, and it was all hers. Pristine and unexplored.
When the morning of their departure dawned, she had been awake for hours. In fact, she had hardly slept, from sheer excitement. Today hers might be the first human foot to tread mountain trails, hers the first eyes to glimpse secret glades and secluded cascades. Today she might discover a plant never before described.
Today she might be kissed again.
She thrust the thought far to the back of her mind. Unsure of what she most looked forward to, she rose and dressed quickly. Although the weather had been warm for the past week, nighttime temperatures still dipped close to the freezing point. She shivered as she pulled on the black stockings, the split petticoat she had fashioned, and the heavy wool split skirt. How she had wished she had trousers or a riding skirt made of the heavy, strong denim the men's britches were fashioned from. It would have made ideal field wear.
When she had mentioned such practical garments to Uncle, he had thrown a fit. "You would look like a woman of easy virtue in trousers, and even a riding skirt would give the wrong impression of your morals. No, indeed, my girl. On my expeditions, women dress like ladies or they are left behind." Well, Uncle was not here, and she would wear the split skirt, no matter how abandoned it made her appear.
The time seemed to drag by, but eventually they were ready. She and Mr. Bradley, their mounts, and twelve mules. Only three mules were loaded, and their packs were light.
"You shouldn't have any trouble if you tie the cow just outside your tent at night, " Mr. Bradley said to Tom. "She'll make such a ruckus if anything comes close, you'll wake up,"
"Don't worry about me." The young man laughed. "Maybe I'll have me another bearskin rug by the time you get back." He had been spending some of his spare time tanning the bear hide killed during the ice storm, but he wanted a better one, without the bald patches and tears inflicted by the mules' hooves. He frequently complained about the bullet hole where Mr. Willard had put the injured creature out of its misery.
"Just see you keep that cow safe. The Professor sets a store by his milk."
"Then he ought'a took it with him. I emptied the whole bucket out this morning."
Nellie agreed, as she had ever since Uncle had announced he would not allow their party to be slowed by a cow. She'd been tempted to remind him that he was the one who'd insi
sted on having fresh milk and cream, but hadn't. When Uncle made up his mind, arguing was a futile business.
"We'll be back in five days. When we get here, you can have a day or two off."
"Shit...uh, shoot fire, Malcolm, that's no big deal. There ain't nothin' to do around here."
"You could go fishing, Mr. Ernst," Nellie told him. "I noticed yesterday that the salmon are starting to run in the creek."
"I ain't much for fishin'," he said. He winked at her. "But maybe if I had some company doin' it..."
She pretended not to see the wink. Mr. Ernst was getting far too familiar, to her notion. He seemed to think she found him attractive.
Mr. Bradley mounted his horse. "Keep an eye on the stock," he told the young man. "That cat hasn't been around for a while, but he'll be back. You can count on it. We should be back in five days. If we're not here in a week, you go on upstream and find the others. Don't come looking for us."
The matter-of-fact acceptance that they might never return from this expedition sent a chill down Nellie's spine. She knew that travel into the high country was dangerous, but to tell Mr. Ernst not to search for them seemed terribly fatalistic.
Once they were out of ear shot, she said to Mr. Bradley, "Why did you tell him not to look for us?"
"Because he couldn't find his way out of a burlap bag with a lit lantern. Haven't you noticed how I never send the kid anywhere on his own?"
She thought about the events of the past few weeks. "No, I hadn't realized. That seems to be a rather significant handicap in a man who travels beyond civilization."
"It is. I doubt Franklin even thought to ask. Men who lack a sense of direction rarely choose to step off the beaten path." He looked back over his shoulder at the string of mules. "You always seem to know where you're going." It wasn't quite a question.
"Yes, I do. Even as a small child, I could always find my way back from anywhere, and as I got older and learned my compass headings, I realized I always knew where North was. It's very handy."
"You always know North? Even in the dark?"
"Even then." She seldom boasted of her skills, but this time she wanted him to be impressed. "I have even spun on my heel until I was dizzy, then pointed in the direction I believed to be north without opening my eyes. So far I've always been correct."
"Remind me to take you with me whenever I go into the mountains," he said, just before he dropped back to ride behind her. The trail had narrowed, now that they were starting up the hill to the long ridge they would follow for two or three miles.
Although Nellie knew he was joking, his words left her with a warm glow in her middle.
* * * * *
"They ain't doin' anything but pickin' more flowers. I swear, Buttercup, they're the strangest fellers I ever did see."
The cat's ear twitched. He was sprawled in a patch of sunlight, sound asleep. He'd hunted last night and now he was plumb tuckered.
"Don't know why we followed 'em anyhow. My Girl, she's back there alone with that dangerous feller in the black hat and that crazy kid." She prodded the cat with one toe, but all he did was roll onto his back. In a minute he was fast asleep again, his four paws sticking up in the air.
"That kid, he worries me. I seen the way he watches My Girl, like he wants to eat her up. If he ever catches her alone, he's gonna hurt her."
A shout called her attention back to the four men at the bottom of the hill. One was holding up a skull. All the others except the old fart gathered round and looked it over, then they started kicking around in the dirt, like they was lookin' for more of the skeleton.
She knew why, too. She'd seen them bones before.
* * * * *
Nellie and Malachi made camp in a small meadow near the third lake. The first two had been more marsh than lake, with wide borders of tall Scirpus and Carex around small areas of open water. This one was larger, although the margins were still lined with the bulrush and sedges. Water lily leaves covered about half the surface of the lake, which was the deepest, purest blue she had ever seen.
The pines around the meadow were smaller than in the valley below, something she had expected at this high elevation. Scattered among them were seedling firs. A number of snags stood with blackened bark, evidence of an earlier fire. She heard a woodpecker somewhere, but couldn't see it.
The meadow was strewn with bright flowers, red, yellow, blue, like scattered stars in the bright green grass. Nellie almost wished the mules wouldn't graze it, for their hooves would disturb its untouched splendor. Looking around her, she found she had no desire to collect, or even to investigate what plants were here. For now she simply wanted to enjoy the beauty, the solitude. Breathing deeply, she decided that even the air smelled different up here. Fresher, somehow, and cleaner.
"This suit you?"
She turned around. Mr. Bradley had unloaded her tent and set the rolled-up bundle of canvas on the ground just at the edge of the meadow. She looked at the sun. "Perfect," she told him. The tent would receive morning light, but be somewhat shaded at midday, when the sun had a real bite to it. If she chose to sit just inside, as she should to protect her skin, she would still have a view of the lake and the forest beyond. "Just perfect."
After looking about her one last time, she went to help him. In her middle, she felt a bubbling joy, as if something wonderful was about to happen.
Malachi liked what little he could see of her face under the ugly bonnet. Her smile got wider and wider as she looked around the place he'd chosen for their camp. There would be mosquitoes, he knew, but up here perhaps they'd not be so bad as at the lower lakes, with their wide, marshy borders. He could put up with a few bites, just to see her so happy.
She insisted on helping him set up the tent. "How silly for you to do it alone. You're not a servant. I would far rather think of us as partners."
So would I. For a moment he thought about how it might be if they were. Partners. For life.
It was a tempting, impossible dream.
Again he glanced at her. She was watching a hummingbird dip its beak into the throats of small red flowers in the grass. Her lips were parted, her hands half-reaching toward the brilliant green bird. When the hummer flitted away, she sighed, as if in disappointment, and turned back to unfolding the heavy canvas of her tent.
They got the tent set up and she went inside to organize her gear. Malachi arranged large cobbles in a fire ring, gathered firewood, and went to the lake for water. As he returned, he saw her kneeling in the grass to one side of the tent. She held one hand out, the palm flat. He couldn't see what she held. On a nearby limb, a camp-robber sat, its gray head cocked, eyeing her lure. Malachi stopped in his tracks, waiting until the bird swooped down and took the bait.
Her laugh was like music.
The wanting, that had never quite left him since the first time he'd held her, twisted in his gut. But there was more than just wanting. He needed her.
If he had half the sense God gave a goose, he'd turn her over to Murphy and stay as far away from Nellie Sanders as he could. Murphy would take good care of her. He might try to seduce her, but Malachi had a hunch she'd see right through him. She was innocent, but she wasn't stupid.
The very thought of staying away from her made him sick. Try as he might to convince himself he was bad for her, he was drawn to her like iron filings to a magnet. Her bossiness, her strength of will, her curiosity about everything new--all these fed his fascination with her. There had never been a woman in his life like Nellie, and sometimes he wondered if there'd ever been a woman anywhere like her. Watching her try to lure the camp-robber back for a second helping, he had to grin. She was as tickled as a child with the bird's antics, yet she hadn't turned a hair when she'd seen a bear carcass not twenty feet from her tent.
I've never been prey before! As if she was excited that she might be stalked by a wild animal, a hungry one.
The bird swooped down and took the chunk of biscuit she held, then retreated to its branch and scolded. She g
ot to her feet and turned around. Her wide smile drew an answering one from him.
"Oh, Mr. Bradley, isn't he funny? Such a scold! And not a fearful bone in his body."
"When he hops right into your plate, you may wish you'd never fed him," he said.
Her eyes widened. "Will he? Really?"
"I've seen them do it, over in Montana."
Again the music of her laughter. "Oh, I hope so!"
He shivered with the sheer joy of hearing her. Or was it with the sheer pain of wanting her?
He didn't know.
Once the camp was set up, they explored the area around the lake. On the far side, the mountain rose steeply upwards. A faint game trail zigzagged back and forth through the open woods of the hillside, disappearing over the ledge at the top. They heard falling water. A short walk brought them to where it cascaded down the rock in a series of short fans and plunges. "There's another lake up there, I'll bet," he told her.
"Tomorrow we'll go up and see. I want to go as high as I can, and work down."
"We'll go as high as we can in two hours. I've seen how you work. If we go any farther, we'll be too late getting back."
"But--"
"Miss Sanders, I will cooperate as well as I can to see that you get your precious plant. But you'll have to trust me to know what's the best and the safest schedule. If your plan is to start high and work your way back down, we'll climb until midmorning and then you can start collecting. That should get you halfway back to camp by dark."
She opened her mouth, then closed it. For a moment she stared at him. "You're teasing me," she accused.
"Only a little," he admitted. Recklessly he took her hand in his. "Shall we go back? It's almost time to start supper."
Even when the trail forced him to release her hand, she always slipped it back into his clasp as soon as she could. By the time they got to their camp, Malachi's resolution to behave like a gentleman was sorely strained.
They were lingering over their after-supper tea, when she said, "Where will you sleep?"
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